You and I finally get away for that weekend camping trip.
We drive up into the mountains and find an inviting little spot
in a clearing near a creek. I suggest that we unload the car and
pitch our tent before the sun begins to set. But you’d rather go
for a nature walk. I explain that we need to set up camp while
there’s still enough light. As you begin to pout and whine,
I casually ask how long it’s been since you had your pants pulled
down for an attitude adjustment. Suddenly, the complaining stops
and within minutes we’ve got all our gear unloaded.

At first, you’re quite helpful in putting up the tent, but you
soon become bored and frustrated.

“I’m tired of this!” you announce, tossing a tent pole to the
ground as you storm off into the woods.

You return from your hike half an hour later to find that I’ve
managed to finish erecting the tent on my own. You take in the
pleasant aroma of something I’m busy cooking in a pot over
the fire.

“Oh. Looks like you’ve got dinner going.”

“Yeah. Beef stew.” I say, turning around with a large, flat wooden
spoon in my hand. I wipe the spoon clean with a cloth and start
walking in your direction. “But if you want any, I imagine you’ll
have to eat it standing up.” Taking your wrist firmly in my hand,
I escort you to the picnic table where I sit, haul you across my
lap and without ceremony begin bringing the spoon down hard across
the seat of your jeans. Dust flies off the denim with the first
few swats. I lift the broad stirring instrument and give your
bottom another good whack as I scold you. “Typical!” I say,
smacking your ass again. “I pitch the tent while you pitch a fit!”
I continue paddling you with the spoon until you’re kicking,
crying and promising to do your share. Eventually, I stand you up
and march you into the tent. You start to say something on
the way, but a swift swat with the spoon to your stinging fanny
renders you speechless. “I should make you set the table.” I say,
placing you in a corner. “But I’ll take care of that while you
stand here and think about your behavior.”

You stay in place with your arms crossed, pouting angrily.
After a while, you lower your jeans and start to caress your
throbbing cheeks. Just as you begin thinking your punishment time
must nearly be over and your mouth starts to water for some of
that stew, you hear a vehicle pull up near our campsite.

“Hi there!” a man’s voice calls out.

As I engage the man in conversation, you soon realize that it’s
a park ranger checking to see that we’re all right. You can’t
make out exactly what we’re saying, but you hear the other man
begin to laugh boisterously. You hike your pants up and stick
your head out the front of the tent to see the ranger stepping
back into his truck.

“Well, I hope you two have a good time anyway. he says.
“Oh, and be sure to douse that fire before you bed down.”
You walk out just as he starts the engine. The ranger smiles
and waves upon seeing you. “You behave yourself now!” he shouts
in your direction as he drives away.

“Hungry?” I ask.

You glance over at the picnic table which has been prepared
for supper and notice a pillow placed on one of the benches.
This, of course, is where you will sit.

The sun slowly slips below the hills as we eat. It’s only stew
from a can and some biscuits with butter, but something about
this meal, the fact that it was cooked out in the woods perhaps,
makes it so delectable, so satisfying.

“What exactly did you tell that park ranger?”

“The truth.” I answer with a shrug. “I told him you were being
a bad little camper, so I had to spank your bottom and send you
to bed without any dinner.”

“Right!” you say, not believing me at first. But then your
face begins to blush over as the ranger’s words suddenly make
perfect sense.

“You know, it’s funny... I don’t seem to remember saying you could
come out of that tent. Seems to me you haven’t learned very much.”

Your shoulders fall at the prospect of another tanning session.
“I suppose you’re right.” you sigh and begin to get up.

Naturally, you take your time eating your meal and tidying up
after as I stand nearby, rolling up my right sleeve.

Clearly hoping to avoid the planned dessert, you saunter up to me,
placing your arms around my neck and a smoldering kiss on my lips
as you reach down to unbuckle my belt.

“You don't really need to spank me again, do you?” you whisper
into my ear as your hand snakes into my briefs. “I mean, we’re all
alone in the wilderness. Can’t you think of some other ways to
while away the hours?”

You lift my right hand to your mouth and hungrily slide my middle
finger between your lips while you squeeze my cock tightly in your
other hand.

“Definitely!” I reply, pulling my finger from your mouth.
“And we’ll do them all... right after your spanking.”

You release my swollen member from your grip, frown and kick
the dirt.

“Bare bottom?” you inquire, knowing full well the answer.

A moment later you find yourself staring at the ground as I spank
your bare ass with gusto. A few of your tears mingle with the
dust and pine needles, but you don’t bitch or whine. You’re just
grateful that I’m using my hand instead of that dreadful spoon.
I still manage to get my message across quite effectively without
an implement. After spanking you soundly for several minutes I
can see, even in the dim light of dusk, that your bottom is
getting quite red. I haul back and give your roasted rump one
last exceptionally hard smack- one so loud that it sends a dozen
birds scattering from a tree in the distance. You howl and hiss,
but utter not one word of complaint.

“That ranger gave me a good piece of advice.” I mention as I hold
you in place across my lap and reach into a plastic cooler near
the table. “He said I should douse the fire.” I grab a cold, wet
can of soda out from the ice cubes and begin gently rolling it
across your scorched buns. You moan quietly and then not so
quietly as I roll the chilled container of pop up and down your
burning cheeks, occasionally bending down to place a soft kiss
here and there. After a minute or two of this treatment, I pat
your bottom gently and tell you to stand. Grunting passionately,
you push yourself from my lap. I rise with you, kissing your neck,
your face, your ears. You lift your arms, signaling me to remove
your shirt, which I do. You step from your pants and panties and
remove your socks leaving you gloriously naked in the light of
the fire.

“Want to roast some marshmallows?” I ask. You wipe a tear from
your eye and laugh as you attack my lips with yours. Your tongue
swirls around mine making it clear that marshmallows are not at
the top of your to do list.

The moon rises over the trees and high into the night sky as we
pleasure each other. I spread out a sleeping bag and lay down.
You mount and ride me like an animal. Then I place you on your
hands and knees and take you from behind, smartly slapping your
sore, swollen ass as I thrust into you.

As the last trail of smoke from our fire drifts away, we zip our
sleeping bags together and climb inside. I kiss your cheek and
offer to cook up some bacon and eggs in the morning while you
fetch some water from the creek. When you begin to protest your
work assignment, I don’t bother to argue. I simply ask if you’d
prefer to be spanked with the spoon before or after breakfast.

Suddenly, all is quiet. Only a few crickets and a solitary owl
hooting in the distance can be heard. Wrapped in each other’s
arms, we gaze into the heavens until the stars lull us to sleep.